Consecrated Virgins and Bitterness

...the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness, [and] self-control.

(Galatians 5:22-23)

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Recently, I read a comment online where one poster remarked that most of the consecrated virgins she had met in the context of her vocational discernment tended to come across as discouraging and bitter (to see the actual thread, go here.)*

As a consecrated virgin myself, I have to say that not only was I not offended in the least by this comment, but I also found the honesty of the observation to be refreshing. To be very frank, it was a little like the relief we all feel at the end of the story when the child finally points out that the emperor has no clothes! Although I’ve never seen this discussed publically anywhere before, based on my own personal experience and observations, to me it seems like bitterness is a one spiritual and human formation issue to which modern-day consecrated virgins might be particularly prone.

It should go without saying that, like all generalities, this statement of course does not apply to each and every consecrated virgin categorically. Yes, I have been blessed to encounter consecrated virgins whom I could only describe as serene and joyful. But at the same time, unfortunately I do also have to say that some of the most disturbingly bitter women I have ever met have been consecrated virgins as well. And I’m sure I would be justified in supposing that most of us consecrated virgins have had personal struggles with temptations to bitterness at least at one time or another.

The Church Fathers often wrote about pride as a special temptation for the consecrated virgins of their time, identifying it as the vice most crucial for them to avoid and overcome. For today’s consecrated virgins, I think bitterness might perhaps take this place.

While consecrated virgins around the world may have very different opinions about what it means to be a consecrated virgin on a concrete level (e.g.: should our consecrated witness be totally open or more discreet? should we strive to work for the Church full-time, or have a purely secular career? etc.), I think we can all agree that our Lord, this vocation, and the wider Church would not be well served by the bitterness of consecrated virgins.

In some significant ways, bitterness can undermine the very purpose of our vocation, since it’s hardly an attitude conducive to a free and joyful giving of ourselves to our divine Spouse. Bitterness is also a very effective counter-witness to the rest of the faithful. In this sense, I think we could even consider bitterness to be a “scandal” in the true sense of the word—i.e., that which could cause others to falter in their faith.

I know that bitterness among consecrated virgins isn’t the most comfortable topic of discussion, but I do think it would be good for it to be discussed. My thought it that, like any spiritual problem on either an individual or communal level, simply ignoring this one isn’t going to make it go away, and may even enable it to grow.

I am quite aware that, with all things considered, I myself may not be the best-qualified person to begin this discussion. So for everyone who feels drawn to write in the comment box about how I lack the life experience, insight, personal maturity, and holiness to talk about avoiding sins related to bitterness—you are absolutely correct! Therefore I respectfully ask for your prayers, and that you patiently put up with my efforts here, which are first and foremost an attempt to preach to myself.

What is bitterness?

Just to make myself clear on what I’m talking about, when I refer to “bitterness” here, I mean the striking and demonstrable lack of Christian joy and hope. That is, the sort of noticeable lack which would seem to reflect an inner pettiness, sense of resentment, or an unbecoming anger at one’s life circumstances.

Outward manifestations of bitterness can include things such as: excessive complaining, an inappropriately sarcastic sense of humor, a consistently negative attitude towards life in general, and an overall tone of harshness in one’s speech and mannerisms.

In our inner lives, symptoms that could indicate that we are becoming bitter may include: a tendency towards self-pity, taking a certain delight in recounting all the ways we have been treated unfairly in the past (whether to ourselves or in conversation with others), being jealous of those who seem to be better loved and appreciated than we are, and regularly feeling disappointed or annoyed with most of the people in our lives for not treating us with as much respect and deference as we feel we deserve.

The act of being a habitually bitter person, whether or not we consider it to be a sin in a formal sense, certainly sets the stage for all kinds of sinful behavior. I think that some of the more minor and venial but still fairly common sins that result from bitterness are things like: gossip and back-biting; making unreasonable, and therefore selfish, demands on those closest to us; and a lack of charity in our actions that could be colloquially described as “just plain being mean.” Bitterness also fosters an absence of gratitude for the good things that God has already us—and perhaps could also preclude the initial openness to receiving these blessings in the first place.

What I am NOT talking about when I speak of bitterness are normal human reactions to difficult things in our lives, such as sadness or grief over a real loss, feelings of honest frustration when dealing with a trying situation, or the simple experience of having hurt feelings.

I’m also not talking about other kinds of personal character weaknesses or “human formation issues,” like a tendency to lose one’s temper or to having an inappropriately heightened level of emotional sensitivity (the kind of sensitivity wherein one could be described as being “touchy”). Finally, when I speak of bitterness, I am most definitely not commenting on diagnosable mental health problems like clinical depression or personality disorders.

But now, with consecrated virgins specifically in mind, here are what I see as some likely possible causes for bitterness, along with my reflections (however inadequate they may be) on how perhaps to begin to overcome them:

1. A real lack of support

It’s almost a bit of a truism to point out that, because consecrated virginity is such a “new” form of consecrated life, it isn’t very well understood even by many within the Church. Because of this, consecrated virgins often lack the support given to Catholics in almost any other vocation.

For example, right now in many dioceses, formation programs for aspiring consecrated are either very limited or literally non-existent. Also, while consecrated virgins are canonically under the direct authority and supervision of their bishop, for a variety of reasons (including many very understandable reasons) it can happen that in some places a consecrated virgin will not have a workable system of communication with either the bishop or a direct representative of his. All this is on top of the fact that, due to geographical distance and perhaps also to other social and cultural factors, individual consecrated virgins can tend to be quite isolated from each other.

These things can all lead to some consecrated virgins having what I think we could call a well-founded sense of being unfairly left alone, or to their legitimately feeling as though they been expected to “fend for themself” spiritually.

Similarly, consecrated virgins may also frequently encounter a lot of painful misunderstandings from fellow devout Catholics. When we explain our vocations to others, it’s not uncommon to hear things like: “you’ll never be as good as a nun”; “the Church doesn’t need consecrated virgins”; “the REAL brides of Christ are Sisters in habits”; “you would have done more good for the Church if you had been married and raised a good Catholic family”; or even “you wasted your religious vocation!” And sometimes consecrated virgins find that, within their parish or diocese, their vocation is regarded more as a burden and a liability for the community rather than as an objectively good thing for the Church.

The sense of rejection that can result from feeling that one has tried to offer one’s whole life and entire self to God, but that this self-gift is not wanted by His Church, can be a shattering experience. Therefore, it shouldn’t be too hard to see how this kind of pain can unfortunately lead to a consecrated virgin becoming bitter.

So what can one do to avoid becoming bitter in these kinds of situations? First, I would say that the best ways is to keep the truth clear in your mind at all times. Even if your parish priest (or the Sisters from the local mother house, or your daily Mass-going family, or your Confirmation sponsor, or the the Vicar for Religious from your diocese, etc.) says something insensitive or acts discouragingly towards your vocation on a regular basis, this does NOT at all change the fact that Christ really and truly did call you to be His bride. It also doesn’t affect the good that you can do for the God’s people, your identity within the Church, or your reward in Heaven. It’s a lot easier to let even frequent negative remarks roll off your back if you know and have confidence that they are wrong.

And on a related note, for a number of reasons, not the least of which is avoiding bitterness, it’s also good for us to learn to look at our discouraging experiences in light of their actual context. For instance, if someone in your parish says something hurtful to you about your vocation, it’s almost certainly the case that he or she was speaking purely out of ignorance and not out of any real desire to offend you.

On a deeper level, I think it could be helpful to take unhelpful or objectively unfair circumstances as a call to grow in what I would call a disciplined spiritual maturity. Being often overlooked, unappreciated, or even outright criticized because of one’s vocation to consecrated virginity is a powerful opportunity for us to purify our motives—i.e., to grow strong in our desire to live our consecrated lives purely out of love for Christ and His Church, without regard for the esteem of others. It also gives us a chance to live the spirit of the beatitudes more deeply, by resolving to be unfailingly gracious in our thoughts, words, and deeds, no matter how we may be treated.

However, at the same time I think it’s also important that we be honest about our situations, both to ourselves as well as to the appropriate people in the appropriate contexts. In my opinion, pretending to ourselves that everything is alright when this is objectively not the case (such as, for a hypothetical example, telling ourselves that we had an excellent formation program—when in reality, “formation” consisted solely in something like being asked to read through the materials on USACV website and nothing else) is only setting the stage for greater bitterness at some later point, when we run out of the emotional energy needed to keep up this kind of false optimism.

Additionally, an attitude of respectful honesty and realism can help us to be better aware of our strengths and weaknesses—along with whatever exterior limitations may be placed on us—as we strive to grow in our consecrated lives. We need this kind of self-awareness in order to become well-balanced and non-bitter consecrated virgins.

Finally, a respectful honesty about the “unfair” aspects of our experience of following a vocation to consecrated virginity is absolutely necessary if we ever hope to improve things for the women who may be called to consecrated virginity in the future.

2. Unrealistic expectations

Another probable cause of bitterness among consecrated virgins might be unrealistic expectations. Because there is so little information available on the practicalities and lived experience of consecrated virginity, and because the actual women who live out this vocation are so few and far between, I think it’s not unreasonable to suppose that a number of aspiring consecrated virgins enter into this vocation with what could be called an overly romanticized conception of the realities of this life.

For example, I often hear of aspiring consecrated virgins who say that they feel attracted to this vocation because they see it as a way to “fit in,” to find a niche, and to feel appreciated within the Church. Besides being a less-than-optimal motive for seeking consecration in the first place, this expectation emphatically does not correspond to the actual experience of life as a consecrated virgin in most places today.

Likewise, my impression is that many candidates for consecrated virginity might tend to over-estimate the sensible consolations they will receive as a result of their consecration, not fully realizing that any prayer life, like any marriage, will go through dry and taxing times as well as rich and joyful ones. To me it also seems that some aspiring consecrated virgins imagine that they will receive abundant personal, direct support and encouragement from their bishop and other priests in their diocese or from a local network of fellow consecrated virgins, and are therefore are unpleasantly surprised and disappointed when they discover that they need to be much more emotionally self-sufficient then they had hoped or expected.

For those of us who are concerned about becoming bitter as a result of this kind of disappointment, the easy (but perhaps not always immediately helpful) answer is to keep our expectations realistic. If you are presently discerning a vocation to consecrated virginity, find ways to ask the honest, hard questions. Do whatever you can to be sure you have a decent grasp, not only of the theological nature of this vocation, but also of the experiences you are likely to have when living it out in your day-to-day life.

Yet as is obvious to anyone who has become personally acquainted with this particular difficulty, “keeping your expectations realistic” is not always as simple a solution as it sounds. That is, if you are dealing with crushed dreams in the present, it’s not really possible to go back in time or to adjust your expectations retroactively.

But, similar to what I’ve written above, consecrated virgins who are feeling disappointed can reflect upon the fact that they are actually not disappointed in the deeper theological sense—that is, they have still received what they had been promised when Christ first called them.

Even if you aren’t now regularly receiving awesome mystical graces, or if you don’t have the personal mentorship of your bishop, or you’re not experiencing an ultra-close sense of sisterhood among consecrated virgins, or the people in your parish only think you’re weird when you talk about being a bride of Christ…ultimately, all of these issues are more or less superfluous. At the end of the day, you still have your spousal relationship with Christ and your special personal identification with the Church, which are the truly important gifts one receives in this vocation.

It’s also good to remember that we can always start to develop a sense of realism now, which can help equip us to live out our consecrated lives in a happy, healthy, holy way in the future. By ceasing to build up and entertain unreasonable hopes, even at this “late hour,” we can open ourselves to receive with gratitude the gifts that God is giving us in actual reality.

I suppose that it could happen that a consecrated virgin becomes so disillusioned by the difference between her consecrated life as she first envisioned it and the concrete reality of her life as a consecrated virgin that she begins to doubt she even discerned her vocation properly in the first place.

While anyone in this situation should be talking to a good spiritual director instead of reading this blog, I do have one observation that might be pertinent. That is, perhaps a consecrated virgin suffering though such a situation might pray for the grace of a renewed sense of vocation…or even for an interior experience of being called, as if for the first time, to what consecrated virginity actually entails—i.e., a total, sacrificial gift of oneself to Christ, and in Him, to His Church.

3. A fundamental selfishness

Admittedly, this last heading sounds a lot harsher than I would like it to, but I really can’t think of any other words to describe the idea I’m trying to convey. Of course, I highly doubt that many consecrated virgins (if any at all) discerned their vocation with motives that were blatantly and manifestly selfish. And it also goes without saying that, given the realities of our fallen human nature, very few human beings ever do any good deed with an entirely disinterested heart.

But even taking these two points as a given, I think it’s good to reflect on how easy it could be for us as consecrated virgins to develop a spiritual worldview that turns out to be subtly—and I want to say even almost “innocently”—selfish on a very foundational level.

At this present time, to me at least it seems like most of the existing informational material on consecrated virginity tends to focus mostly on the individual virgin’s personal experience of receiving the Rite of Consecration to a Life of Virginity. For example, much of the available vocational literature consists of personal reflections from consecrated virgins on the graces they received at their consecration, on the beauty of their consecration Mass, on the touching level of support they were given by their parish community, or on the joys of being a bride of Christ.

Naturally, all of this is good in and of itself. Consecration to a life of virginity is indeed a very precious and beautiful thing, and this vocation is truly great gift to the individual consecrated virgin.

But while a consideration of the personal benefits of consecrated virginity certainly isn’t wrong or theologically problematic, I do think we could say that, when taken only by itself, it is a somewhat unbalanced understanding of this vocation. That is, an exclusive or near-exclusive focus on the elements of consecrated virginity which are of primary befit to the individual (i.e., what a woman “gets out of” this vocation) undermines the pride of place that should be given to the more central aspect of this vocation—namely, the call to sacrificial self-giving for the honor of God and the good of His Church.

While this might seem like only a slight matter of emphasis, it really is significant. A candidate for consecrated virginity who looks forwards to a lovely consecration Mass and to the graces of that day—or a consecrated virgin of many years who enjoys meditating on her identity as the beloved bride of Christ—is obviously not selfish in the sense of maliciously seeking her own best interest at the expense of others. But at the same time, it’s important that we realize that if these things are the sum total, or even just the principal theme, of a consecrated virgin’s or candidate’s interior life, then her spiritual focus actually is primarily on herself and her own consolations.

This kind of subtle selfishness is, of course, not nearly as morally problematic as the more egregious varieties of selfishness which manifest themselves in the grave matter of mortal sin. In most contexts we really can’t compare the selfishness behind patently corrupt acts (like adultery or defrauding the poor of their life savings) with the much more “benign” kind of selfishness involved in things like an over-emphasis on experiencing spiritual
consolations for the sake of our own pleasure.

Yet in many ways, this more minor and understandable type of selfishness is actually more of a danger for consecrated virgins, since we are much more likely to give into temptations to selfishness on this level. And while our particular species of selfishness might never metastasize beyond the category of minor venial sin, we should remember that any and all selfishness keeps us from being as close to Christ as we could be. To borrow an illustration from St. John of the Cross, it ultimately doesn’t matter whether a bird is tied down by a heavy rope or by a fine thread—both of these ties can be equally effective in keeping it from flying upwards towards the heavens.

The reason why these observations on selfishness are pertinent to this post is that selfishness, no matter how subtle or unwitting, is by its nature connected to bitterness.

As human beings, we can only reach our fullness of life and happiness when we are striving to give of ourselves in love. The Vatican II document Gaudium et Spes acknowledges this reality when it states that man “cannot fully find himself except through a sincere gift of himself.” (GS 24) Because we are made in the image and likeness of God, we can never fully flourish unless we, in some way, come to reflect the total self-giving of the inner life of the Trinity in our own lives.

Our call to reflect the inner life and love of the Trinity, first in our vocation as baptized Christians and then in our lives as consecrated virgins, involves our learning to love, eventually, without concern for our own consolation. While of course we all have human needs that are right and proper for us to take into account (and while God also does want us to seek Him as our true good for our own benefit), at the same time we need to remember that real self-giving love doesn’t ask “what’s in it for me?”

If our main intentions in following our vocation are ultimately rooted in selfishness, even if it’s a “pious” selfishness like desiring beautiful experiences in prayer for the sake of our own enjoyment, we will never grow to our full stature as daughters of God and brides of Christ. Consequently, we will not progress as the rate we should—presuming that we manage to progress at all, or that we don’t in effect move backwards—in our growth in the theological virtues of faith, hope, and love. And a deficiency in any of these virtues will more than probably manifest itself on the level of our human personality in the form of bitterness.

Avoiding this kind of bitterness will never be exactly easy, because overcoming all forms selfishness is one of the central struggles of the Christian life. And in the consecrated life, this struggle is magnified—although I think we can say that it is only magnified so that the victory we win with the help of God’s grace can be even more complete and perfect. So while the journey here (which I think all of us consecrated virgins, not just those of us presently struggling with obvious bitterness, have to take) is difficult, it is also very beautiful.

As consecrated virgins, our growth towards the disinterested, self-sacrificial love to which we are called will give us a greater affinity with our sisters, the early virgin-martyr saints who were so important to the flourishing of the Church in her first centuries. And even more importantly, it will bring us towards a closer likeness with our crucified Spouse, who came not to be served, “but to serve, and to give His life as a ransom for many.” (Matthew 20:28)

notes:

* Just as a side note to anyone who actually goes and reads this thread, for a lot of reasons, I do NOT think that it's appropriate to call consecrated virginity "the single life," "consecrated single life," "lay consecration," or anything similar. But that's a topic for another post!

Alice Claire’s Question

Here is a question from fellow consecrated virgin Alice Claire, on my post Open Discussion on “Dedication to the Service of the Church”:

At this time I have no comments, only a question. I get the impression from your blog that you feel very strongly that the life of a consecrated virgin should be very much regimented. While such regimentation is appropriate for a religious order or society of some sort, it is not necessary, appropriate or desirable for a consecrated virgin, who is not a member of an order or a society. Our consecration as virgins presupposes that we have the maturity and integrity to live out our vocation in the world in a manner pleasing to the Lord and in keeping with the teachings of the Catholic Church. I respectfully ask why you feel so strongly about regimenting the life of a consecrated virgin.

Dear Alice Claire,

Thank you for taking the time to comment. Although I was mainly hoping to hear other consecrated virgins’ thoughts on the subject of service (since sometimes I feel as though, unfortunately, I’m the only one who has written in depth on this particular topic), this is still the kind of thoughtful discussion I had wanted to foster.

Before I write any further, I need to point out that this following post is not so much a matter of me trying to articulate an academic theological point, as much as it is a kind of cry of my heart. I don’t usually blog very much about my personal feelings, but that’s exactly what I’m doing now.

So consequently, nothing I write here should be taken as a criticism of any individual consecrated virgin. I’ve never doubted that my sisters in Christ have ever had anything but the sincerest intentions in their living out their vocations, even if I don’t always agree with certain practical interpretations of the Rite of Consecration to a Life of Virginity. The aim of this post is simply to describe the thoughts that go through my own mind.

First of all, I guess I don’t think of my ideas on consecrated virginity as calling for a truly “regimented” lifestyle. To me, “regimented” seems like it would be best used to describe the lifestyle of cloistered nuns or other religious who follow a strict horarium, a detailed Rule of Life, or an extensive set of customs.

I do believe that consecrated virgins should live what I suppose you could call a more distinctive, demonstrably “consecrated” lifestyle. In other words, I do think that our life should be different from that of an average devout Catholic laywoman.

I do not feel that it’s enough for us merely to follow the basic teachings of the Church. Rather, it would seem that our virginal consecration calls us to be specially conformed to Christ in a way that goes above and beyond the call that all the faithful receive by virtue of their baptism.

It likewise seems to me that out identity as “sacred persons” would call us to be oriented towards God and the things of God to with a more intense focus and in a more exclusive way than would be proper or possible for the vast majority of the laity.*

In light of this, I personally believe that in order to live an appropriately “consecrated” lifestyle (and one which is also in accord with our own particular charism), we consecrated virgins should live out our vocation in the following concrete ways:

- By engaging in activities which directly and explicitly advance the Church’s mission on something akin to a full-time basis (which could—but does not always necessarily have to—be accomplished by working in a Church-sponsored institution);

- By praying the full Liturgy of the Hours, spending substantial time in private prayer, incorporating some kind of penance and mortification into one’s spiritual life, and attending daily Mass wherever this is possible;

- By having some kind of serious and meaningful bond with the diocese for which one was consecrated;

- By living in a spirit of evangelical poverty through an attitude of radical detachment from earthly pleasures and through consciously choosing to maintain a very simple standard of living;

- By living in a spirit of evangelical obedience via having at least some kind of accountability to one’s bishop, and through the manifestation of one’s willingness to place the needs of the Church above one’s own personal preferences; and

- By demonstrating an openness to being known as a consecrated virgin at all times and in all places.

This could perhaps be considered a rather demanding lifestyle, and it’s one which certainly would require a great deal of discipline and personal maturity. (I would even argue that it takes more maturity for a consecrated virgin to observe these practices faithfully than it would for a consecrated virgin to live a less-structured lifestyle.)

But, I don’t think you could consider the way of life which I propose here to be an especially regimented one. Even if consecrated virgins everywhere were to model their lives on the above-mentioned points, this would still allow for a great deal of freedom and legitimate diversity—much more freedom and diversity than would be possible within a single religious congregation.

For example, I am emphatically NOT saying things like: all consecrated virgins have to be Catholic school teachers, say Vespers at exactly 5:00 pm, or fast on bread and water every Friday. It has never been my intention to make up a universal set of very detailed instructions to cover a consecrated virgin’s every waking hour; to propose that consecrated virgins all take on one common apostolate; or to argue that this vocation should be lived in exactly the same way, right down to the last detail, around the world without taking into account the different local circumstances and the unique spiritual gifts of each individual consecrated virgin.

Nor am I saying that a consecrated virgin would need to ask her bishop’s permission for every minor choice she needs to make during the day, or that a consecrated virgin would need to be specifically “commissioned” every time she wants to do a good deed for someone or help out at her parish. I’m not even suggesting that consecrated virgins should write out their own personal “rules of life” to be submitted for their bishops’ approval.

What I am suggesting is that, since consecrated virginity is a public state of consecrated life, it should involve some level of real self-sacrifice and accountability. It should not in any sense be understood as a wholly private reality.

I’m also trying to say that consecrated virginity is a vocation which significant enough to determine absolutely every aspect of our lives, and that it should never be viewed as anything along the lines of a part-time commitment. Our call to consecrated virginity should be the center around which we order our entire existence; it should not be something we try to “fit into” an already-full life.**

Unlike membership in a parish organization or a Third Order, consecrated virginity (like marriage, religious life, or priesthood) is a “first” or primary vocation.

You would never say to an earthly bride-to-be, “It would be great if you could live with your husband, or use the title ‘Mrs.,’ or aspire to raise a family—but don’t worry about trying to do these things if they don’t fit with your present work or career situation, or if you don’t feel personally ‘called’ to do them.”

This kind of advice sounds ridiculous to us, because the Catholic view of matrimony recognizes that marriage as a vocation fundamentally entails a specific way of life.

We also acknowledge that marriage, by definition, involves a total self-gift to one’s spouse. And logically, it would seem to us that this self-gift is not occurring if the spouses aren’t willing to give each other the first priority in planning the concrete details of their respective daily lives. We would never say that it’s sufficient for a married couple simply to start adopting a “married spirituality” while living in exactly the same way they did when they were single.

You could draw similar parallels with vocations to the priesthood. Could anyone imagine a bishop ordaining a man who didn’t want to engage in any kind of pastoral ministry, didn’t want to make a commitment to a diocese, and didn’t want to obey anyone, but still sought Holy Orders just because he wanted the grace of the Sacrament to enrich his personal prayer life?

But, to be brutally honest (and, once again, I’d like to remind everyone that I’m speaking only for myself and of my own personal impressions), to me it seems that people often mistakenly see consecrated virginity as being a less serious commitment than marriage, religious life, or priesthood. Either that, or consecrated virginity is viewed as being a kind of vocation designed so that you can have your cake and eat it, too.

For example…

Consecrated virgins are described as women who marry Jesus—but who can still enjoy the freedoms and conveniences of a single lifestyle.

…They should enjoy their bishops’ special attention and concern—but they shouldn’t be obligated to render any practical service to the local Church or be expected to make any binding commitments to their diocese.

…They are publicly established as icons of the Church through a beautiful liturgical ceremony—but they can’t be asked to modify the concrete details of their daily life after the ritual’s conclusion.

…Consecrated virgins are given the privilege and duty of being prayerful intercessors for the needs of the Church—but prayer is to be relegated to their free time and shouldn’t take precedence over their family or professional obligations; and what, when, and how often they pray is to be determined totally by their own inclinations and preferences.

…They sacrifice marriage and family life—but just to be on the safe side, they are ordinarily encouraged to do this only after their child-bearing years have come to a close.

Obviously, this is a very unflattering portrait of consecrated virginity. And to be sure, in my own life I have never met a consecrated virgin who discerned her vocation with this object consciously in mind.

However, I think that as ugly (and let’s hope generally inaccurate) as this description is, I think it needed to be written because, in my own experience at least, this seems to be the popular conception of consecrated virginity as a vocation.

While we shouldn’t let misunderstandings or plain ignorance cause us to lose our interior peace, I still do think that the widespread nature of this misunderstanding should give us pause. Maybe it should even be the occasion of an individual and collective examination of conscience among consecrated virgins. We need to be brave enough to ask—and honest, prudent, and discerning enough to answer—the question of whether or not this popular misconception might actually contain a grain of truth.

I remember one time a very holy priest (for whom I have enormous respect) once said to me, after I had the chance to share my vocation story with him: “But you can’t honestly compare yourself to a Missionary of Charity or a Carmelite. They sacrifice everything!…No one will ever think you’re as good as a nun.”

If you can imagine it, the priest didn’t say this in a way that was at all unkind (the conversation basically concluded with a effort to provide some pastoral encouragement by suggesting that God could still call me one day to be a Carthusian or a Poor Clare...). And for the most part I was able to brush off the unintended offensiveness of this comment by considering the context, and by remembering that one priest’s perceptions don’t dictate the objective reality of a situation.

However, the comment was still a bit disturbing to me, because it posed that same unspoken but haunting question: Could it be that serious Catholics would see me as someone who gave her life to God in half-measures…because I did in fact only give my life to God in a partial and incomplete way? Even if, by the grace of God, I was able to give myself wholly over to God in the quiet recesses of my soul, could it be that consecrated virginity, on an objective level, was not even intended as a vocation that allows a woman to make a complete gift of herself to Christ?

I am writing this as a sinner who consistently fails to meet even her own minimal expectations. I know I am not a saint. Despite the effort I put into discerning and outlining what I think a consecrated virgin’s life should look like, I would be the first to admit that my efforts to reach the perfection of charity within this way of life are always flawed at best, and that my sinfulness keeps me miles away from reaching my goal.

However, this doesn’t change the fact that complete, radical, sacrificial self-giving is still the goal to which I long to be called!

Even if I can’t ever fulfill it perfectly, I still want my vocation to be that of a total, spousal, giving of myself to Christ in every single area of my life. I desire with every fiber of my being to be called to be concretely, literally, visibly—and entirely, without reserve or exception—given over to God and the Church.

But, I have never wanted to strive for this end simply because it happens to be what I feel like doing at the moment; I want to strive for it because I have been explicitly called to do so by God, speaking through His Church.

And I wanted the chance to say “yes” to this call in a public, binding, permanent, and “official” way. Yet my thought is that if the Church were in fact to see consecrated virginity as being a “less total” vocation than marriage, priesthood, or religious life, then it wouldn’t actually be my vocation to give everything to Christ in a radical way.

I could still try to do this on my own, of course—but in that case it would just be an aspect of my own private spirituality. My formal place in the Church wouldn’t be that of one who gives her life wholly over to God, and in that specific sense I truly wouldn’t be “as good as a nun.”

I know this is a very subtle distinction (and one which probably isn’t always the most pastorally prudent thing to discuss openly). But as a young woman who’s signed up for consecrated virginity for the rest of her life, it’s one which nevertheless seems terribly important to me.

So in a nutshell:

I believe what I do about the most appropriate way of life for consecrated virgins because, first and foremost, on an objective theological level this seems to be most consistent with the Church’s teachings on the nature of the liturgy and of consecrated life in general.

The reason I feel so strongly about what I believe is because I want to give everything to Christ in an absolute and radical way; and I think that, in most cases, one of the surest signs that you are truly given over to Christ is that your commitment concretely affects the ways in which you order your exterior life.

And, I want to be wholly given over to Jesus in a way that transcends the limits of my own personal spirituality—I want it to be in response to an unambiguous call from Christ, mediated through His body, the Church.

notes:

* This is not to undermine the Church’s teaching on the universal call to holiness or to obscure the many contributions that laypeople make to the life of the Church; it’s only an acknowledgement that consecrated life is a distinct vocation with its own particular nature and purpose.

** I do understand that many consecrated virgins today were consecrated when they were middle-aged or elderly, and I’m sympathetic to the fact that many older consecrated virgins are truly unable to make major changes in their lifestyle. However, I think we should consider these situations to be the exception, and not the rule. (I also think that this is one of the strongest arguments for encouraging—or at the very least, to cease actively discouraging—vocations to consecrated virginity among younger women.)

Open Discussion on “Dedication to the Service of the Church”

One of the most controversial topics I write about here on “Sponsa Christi” is what is meant concretely when Canon Law, the Church’s liturgy, and other magisterial documents describe consecrated virgins as being “dedicated to the service of the Church.”

As regular readers know, I believe that the phrase “dedicated to the service of the Church” should be understood as indicating that consecrated virgins are, under ordinary circumstances, expected to be literally dedicated (i.e., “totally given over”) to works which directly and demonstrably further the Church’s mission. Usually, I think this would mean that a consecrated virgin would be involved in some kind of Church-sponsored, or at least Church-related, work on something like a full-time basis.

Since I’ve written on this topic before, I know that there are many people who disagree with me on this—which is perfectly legitimate, since it doesn’t seem that the Church has yet issued an authoritative clarification on exactly how a consecrated virgin’s call to service should affect her day-to-day life.

However, while I respect those who have a different point of view than I do on this, there is still one element of these kinds of responses which strikes me as odd. Namely, I don’t think any of my “opponents” have ever articulated a positive theological argument as to why “dedication to the service of the Church” should be understood as meaning anything other than literal dedication to serving the Church in direct ways.

In other words, while people have often pointed out the ways in which they believe that I am wrong, I haven’t come across anyone here who has given a cogent argument as to why they believe that their differing view is right.

So, I’m trying something a little different in this post!

If you believe that for consecrated virgins, “dedication to the service of the Church” means something other than what I think it means; and if you have a cogent, positive rationale for your position, you are invited to share it here in the comment box.

But first, some ground rules:

1. Be respectful, and please presume my intelligence, education, and good will, as well that of all others here. (No one here believes the things they do because they are intellectually careless or because they somehow harbor a desire to mislead people!)

2. By posting here, you are given me permission to reprint and discuss your comment on this blog (in either this post or in a future post, depending on the volume of the responses I receive). If you have a problem with this, please refrain from participating in this discussion.

3. You must advance a whole, internally consistent interpretation by means of a positive argument. That is, it has to be an interpretation that can stand on its own. (You can’t just point out the areas in which you think that someone else is mistaken.)

4. “Because Cardinal Burke and/or the USAVC said so” is NOT an acceptable argument. If you agree with Card. Burke and/or the USACV, that’s great! But if you want to comment here, you have to be able to: 1.) articulate the precise position of Card. Burke or the USACV; and 2.) give your own arguments as to why you think that Card. Burke and/or the USACV are correct.

5. Comments are moderated, and I reserve the right to delete comments which I feel are off-topic or seriously disrespectful. Also, since my intention in creating this post is to foster wholesome mutual theological discussion, I may delete this entire post if I feel that it’s fostered an unhelpful and overly heated debate.

6. No anonymous commenting. If you have something to say, you have to be willing to sign your name (or at least pseudonym or a screen name) to it!

7. Always pray before posting!

Also, as background, here are some previous posts I’ve written on what I think it means to be “dedicated to the service of the Church”:

What Does It Mean to Be “Dedicated to the Service of the Church?”
Responses to Comments, Part I
Responses to Comments, Part II
“Being” versus “Doing”
What Does It Mean to Be “In the World?”
What if Serving the Church is Seriously Inconvenient?

What If Serving the Church Is Seriously Inconvenient?

As regular readers of this blog well know, one facet of consecrated virginity which I find particularly meaningful is a consecrated virgin’s call to be “dedicated to the service of the Church” (a phrase taken verbatim from the Catechism of the Catholic Church from Canon Law).*

The topic of my Master’s thesis, as well the topic of many previous blog posts, was why I feel that it is most appropriate to interpret this call to service literally—i.e., that “dedication to the service of the Church” should be taken to mean that, barring extraordinary or extenuating circumstances, consecrated virgins should be committed to service which is visibly and directly Church-related on something like a full-time basis.

In a nutshell, my reason for arriving at this conclusion is that, if you interpret consecrated virgins’ call to service in a non-literal way, you’re left with two very imperfect options for understanding this aspect of the vocation: either being “dedicated to the service of the Church” means that consecrated virgins are to strive to imbue the secular “marketplace” with Christian values, making the vocation of consecrated virginity most similar in nature to membership in a secular institute; OR “dedication to the service of the Church” means that consecrated virgins are supposed to do whatever volunteer Church-related service they can fit into their schedules during their free time, making this vocation most similar in nature to membership in a secular Third Order or a in lay parish group like the Altar Rosary Society.

Understanding consecrated virginity as being most similar to secular institute membership is theologically problematic because this is an unwarranted and unjustified** superimposition of secular institutes’ specific and very modern charism (i.e., that of being a “hidden leaven” in the world) onto what is an ancient and entirely different form of consecrated life.

Seeing consecrated virginity as being most similar to membership in a secular Third Order or to a lay association is theologically problematic because it suggests that consecrated virginity is not a commitment which is significant enough or in such a way as to warrant any major changes in one’s exterior life. This is at odds with the Church’s understanding of consecrated life in general as involving a complete and total gift of self and a more radical observance of the evangelical councils than would be possible or advisable for most lay people.

But even after establishing some solid theological and canonical grounds for a literal interpretation of what it means for consecrated virgins to be “dedicated to the service of the Church,” often questions arise which relate to the purely practical aspects of this assertion. Here is one such question from a regular reader:

I have a question about working for the Church to directly advance her mission. Please don’t take this the wrong way, but not all of us live in the Archdiocese of New York, where there are numerous Catholic institutions. What about women who live in small, or even large, rural dioceses? These dioceses tend to be poorer, without a lot of resources and with few Catholic institutions. In my diocese, for instance, there is not a single Catholic health care facility. Would a consecrated virgin who was a nurse have to go to another diocese to work in a Catholic sponsored hospital? Or should she quit nursing to become a teacher in one of the few Catholic schools in the diocese, even though she has neither the interest or ability to be a good teacher? —Curious

This question is somewhat complex, in that it touches on several related but distinct issues at one time. But in my reading of this comment, is seems to me that the central question being asked here is whether or not a consecrated virgin would be obligated to serve the Church in a full-time and direct way even in situations where this would be seriously inconvenient.*** (With apologies to “Curious” if it turns out that I’m misunderstanding.)

Given my reading of the question, and assuming that it references a hypothetical situation, my own thought is that the short answer would have to be a qualified “yes.”

That is, in my own OPINION, a true “dedication to the service of the Church” in one’s home diocese is so intrinsic to the vocation of consecrated virginity “lived in the world,” that an aspiring consecrated virgin should be willing to undertake even substantial inconveniences in order to live out this aspect of her calling, or else reconsider her vocation entirely.

Further, as I see it, in order to serve one’s local Church effectively—as well as to emulate the sacrificial love and self-emptying which the Church holds as the ideal for all forms of consecrated life—it’s necessary to take into account the actual needs of one’s diocese, even if these needs do not dovetail perfectly with the kind of work which one would find the most personally fulfilling.

So, speaking purely in principle, if there was an aspiring consecrated virgin who was trained as a nurse, but who lived in a diocese where a nursing apostolate was truly and absolutely impossible, my thought would be that she should either:

- consider some other type of apostolate;
- consider moving to a diocese that did need nurses;
- consider whether or not she might actually be called to some sort of dedicated lay life (e.g., private vows); OR
- consider whether or not she might be called to some other form of consecrated life besides consecrated virginity (such as an active religious community traditionally dedicated to nursing).

But with all that being said, I have to point out that these kinds of abstract considerations are just that—considerations in the abstract. Real-life cases often have nuances which can’t be adequately taken into account within the context of a hypothetical situation.

If a potential consecrated virgin who was in the situation which “Curious” describes came to me asking for advice, I would ask her the following questions or make the following points:

1. Are you absolutely sure that there is no possibility whatsoever of you using your gifts as a nurse within some sort of Catholic institution in your diocese?

With all due respect, to be honest, I guess I have a hard time imagining that in a rural, economically poorer diocese there would be zero need for nurses—if anything, as an outside observer, it seems like such a diocese would needs nurses even more urgently than a place like New York!

Even if there aren’t any Catholic hospitals in your area, is there any other Church-related organization that could use a nurse? Maybe a crisis pregnancy center, or a nursing home, or in one of the many kinds of programs run by Catholic Charities? Is there a Catholic school that needs a school nurse? Or would you be qualified to teach nursing at a local Catholic college? Does your nursing background make it possible to become an NFP instructor? Or could you see yourself transitioning into an apostolate the focused on educating the faithful on Catholic medical ethics? (These are just a few ideas I’m coming up with off the top of my head—I’m sure there are even more possibilities.)

And, in the event that none of these “creative options” involved a paid position, would it be possible for you to work just enough hours in a secular (but Catholic-friendly!) institution to support yourself in a very simply lifestyle, while you devoted a truly substantial amount—perhaps the majority—of your time to pro bono nursing work?

2. Keep in mind that it is theoretically possible to work for the direct advancement of the Church’s mission without necessarily coming under the formal auspices of a Catholic institution. My thought is that a consecrated virgin who, with the approval of her bishop, gave herself over entirely or near-entirely to prayer or charitable works would be indisputably “dedicated to the service of the Church,” even if she wasn’t considered an official diocesan employee.

For one thing, sometimes institutions are not considered “Catholic” or “diocesan” simply because of an administrative technicality. As one example, the Georgetown Visitation Preparatory School is a girls’ high school in Washington, DC, which is run by the Visitation nuns of Georgetown. Even though the students there take theology classes, learn about Catholic values, have the opportunity to attend daily Mass, and see plenty of fully-habited nuns on campus, the school is not considered a “Catholic school,” but a “private school in the Catholic tradition.” However, this distinction is due only to comparatively minor administrative details, such as not being bound by the local diocesan-wide academic calendar.

In other words, you could hardly argue that the Visitation nuns were not serving the Church simply because their educational apostolate doesn’t include a “Catholic school.”

Likewise, the apostolates of many active religious congregations wasn’t considered an “official” work of the Church at the time of their foundation, since as emerging communities they were not recognized as being formal representatives of the Church.

E.g., when Bl. Theresa of Calcutta first went out to serve the poorest of the poor, initially she was simply performing acts of mercy on what was essentially, from a canonical point of view, her own initiate. The corporate apostolate of the Missionaries of Charity wouldn’t be recognized and formally endorsed by the Church until many years later. Yet, since Mother Theresa’s intention in working among the poor was to manifest the love of Christ, and since this can rightly be considered an extension of the Church’s charitable mission, it would be wrong to say that Mother Theresa was doing anything other than serving the Church in a direct and literal way.

Also, some forms of service don’t really lend themselves to “institutionalization.” For instance, I think it would be perfectly legitimate (albeit not very practical in a lot of cases) for a consecrated virgin to be “dedicated to the service of the Church” through an apostolate of full-time prayer in the context of a contemplative, semi-eremitic lifestyle. Yet, embarking on this particular way of life is a far cry from being hired by an institution.

Similarly, I think there are many conceivable situations where a consecrated virgin could—with the approval of her bishop—take the initiative in developing her own apostolate. I could easily imagine a consecrated virgin serving the Church through something like making vestments, tutoring disadvantaged children, writing books and free lance articles on Catholic spirituality, creating Catholic art, using her professional legal training to do advocacy work for the poor, studying psychology to become a Catholic counselor with her own private practice, and so on.

3. In some ways, to me it seems like it might actually be easier for a consecrated virgin from a small rural diocese to find a way to be directly and explicitly “dedicated to the service of the Church,” than it would be for a consecrated virgin from a large metropolitan See.

As much as I absolutely love being a part of the Archdiocese of New York, to be honest I have to admit that there are drawbacks as well as benefits to being a consecrated virgin in such a huge urban-centered archdiocese. While I appreciate, among other things, the vibrant and diverse Catholic culture here, our rich historical background, the great number of solid local religious communities, and the many nearby cultural and educational resources, at the same time the sheer size of the Archdiocese could tend to make it easier for a consecrated virgin to get “lost in the woodwork.”

On the other hand, it seems to me that an aspiring consecrated virgin from a small rural diocese would be more likely to have a vibrant, personal relationship with her bishop. This in turn could foster a more in-depth, carefully considered and truly mutual discernment of the aspiring consecrated virgin’s gifts and skills vis-à-vis the needs of the diocese.

4. Speaking as respectfully as possible, is there some aspect of your discernment you might need to reconsider?

Are you really sure that you couldn’t fulfill God’s will for you in any apostolate besides full-time nursing? When you’re being as honest as possible with yourself and with the Lord in prayer, do you feel that nursing is truly your vocation, or does it just seem to be the most logical way to use what you perceive as your gifts? While it’s important for us to be good stewards and to employ our best human judgment in using the gifts we have been given wisely, sometimes there can be a bit of a gap between what God actually does want of us and what we think would make the most sense for God to want of us.

If nursing was utterly impossible in your diocese, would moving really be all that bad? Is their another diocese where you could imagine feeling just as “at home” as the place where you live now? Or do you think God could be calling you—almost like a missionary—to pack up and move in order to love and serve Him in a place where your gifts are most needed?

Or are you sure that you’re called to be a consecrated virgin in the first place? If being a nurse is such a central component to your experience of vocation, perhaps that’s a sign that God is actually calling you to be a Sister in a congregation with a nursing apostolate. (And there are some great ones out there, like the Hawthorn Dominicans and the Little Sisters of the Poor). Or, maybe you’re called to join a secular institute, or else to make a private vow on your own.

5. Even if your diocese’s greatest, most pressing need was for Catholic school teachers, you wouldn’t necessarily have to become a teacher if you were sincerely convinced that teaching would be a completely horrible “fit” for you. While I believe that consecrated virgin are, with very few exceptions, indisputably called to be literally dedicated to direct service of the Church, I think it would be wrong to assume that consecrated virgins are necessarily called to any one specific type of apostolate (even within a particular diocese).

And although I personally don’t think that I would, in my own life, have a problem if I were asked to serve the Church in the context of a religious life-type structure of formal obedience (i.e., where you go where you’re sent, regardless of how you happen to feel about your assignment), on a theological level I actually don’t think this is the most appropriate system of ecclesial service for consecrated virgins “in the world.”

The Rite of Consecration to a Life of Virginity itself seems to envision a sort of mutual discernment between the bishop and the consecrated virgin in determining the exact way in which the consecrated virgin is to serve the Church. In number 2 of the gereral introduction of the Rite, it states that consecrated virgins are to “spend their time in works of penance and of mercy, in apostolic activity, and in prayer, according to their state in life and spiritual gifts” (my emphasis).

The bottom line is that, while certainly consecrated virgins should always be willing and even eager to “empty themselves” by putting the needs of their diocese above their own personal preferences, I don’t think that consecrated virgins’ call to service should ever be misunderstood as an obligation to undertake a type of work for which one is totally unsuited, unqualified, or incompetent.

Above all, we would be wrong and terribly mistaken if we were to understand a call to a life of direct, Church-related service as being anything at all like (as has at times been suggested) a way for the hierarchy to obtain cheap labor from an unquestioning celibate workforce. The theology of consecrated life, especially as it pertains to service, is so much richer than that!

As I see it, a consecrated virgin’s vocation to service is first and foremost a vocation to manifest, in a concrete manner, her spousal love of Jesus and her maternal love of the souls in her diocese. (And could anyone really argue that it would be inappropriate for a consecrated virgin to make sacrifices and “spend herself” for the sake of souls, since everyday we see natural mothers “spending themselves” for the sake of their natural children?)

A call to be “dedicated to the service of Church” is undoubtedly a call to generosity and self-sacrifice; it is emphatically NOT a call to abandon human prudence and common sense.

notes:

* See CCC 923; canon 604.1.

** I know “unwarranted” and “unjustified” might sound like inflammatory words, but I truly don’t mean them to take on this sort of tone. All I’m trying to say is that there isn’t anything in the Church’s history, tradition, or current authoritative documents which actively suggests that consecrated virginity should have a spirituality or charism similar to that of secular institutes.

*** But in referring to “seriously inconvenient” circumstances, I’m not talking about matters of life or death! If a consecrated virgin really and truly were to have absolutely no other options besides working in a secular job in order to support herself in the basic necessities of life, then of course I would not fault her for this.

Likewise, with the popular understanding of consecrated virginity being what it is right now, I think that those virgins who were consecrated when they were in their fifties, sixties, and seventies are now called simply to do the best they can in striving to live a life of service. While I personally belive that it would be commendable for an older consecrated virgin to prayerfully discern changing careers in order to devote more time to direct service of the Church, I do appreciate the fact that in many cases it may be prohibitively difficult or else gravely imprudent for middle-aged or elderly woman to seek to make such a radical change.

A Dress Code for Consecrated Virgins?

Here’s a comment from reader on this post, which I received back in July:

“If consecrated virgins are to live a life that is readily identifiable as consecrated, what about their appearance? Should they wear some kind of habit, or at least have a dress code? While some consecrated virgins I know dress very simply and appropriately, others follow the fashions including make-up, jewelry, even immodest styles, or sloppy jeans and T-shirts.” —Curious

While questions of what to wear certainly aren’t the most profound or significant issues with which I have to contend in my life as a consecrated virgin, figuring out how to dress in a way appropriate with respect to my vocation isn’t totally unimportant, either.

For one thing, since I do have to get dressed every day, the question of what to wear is a necessary one, as it’s impossible to avoid. Also, what we wear does say something to the world about who we are and how we see ourselves. Hopefully it goes without saying here that clothes don’t make the man (or the woman). But because it is a kind of self-expression, our choice of clothing does merit at least some consideration.

First, a few words about the “elephant in the room” in any discussion on consecrated virgins’ clothing—consecrated virgins “living in the world” and religious habits:

I actually don’t think that non-monastic consecrated virgins should aspire to wear “habits” per se, because a habit is a mark of membership in the spiritual family of a religious Order or congregation. That is, I don’t think that consecrated virgins should attach a lot of importance to specific articles of clothing in the way that, for example: Dominicans and Carmelites treasure their respective scapulars; Franciscans wear a knotted cord cincture, or the way that some congregations (e.g., the Redeptoristine nuns or the Holy Spirit Adoration Sisters) have a tradition of wearing a specific color in honor of the particular Christian mystery around which their charism is centered.

Unlike members of religious communities, the spirituality of consecrated virgins isn’t rooted in any one particular set of historical circumstances (other than the foundation of the Church, that is!) or in the unique spirituality of a particular founder or foundress. So I don’t think it would be correct for consecrated virgins to have a practice of dressing in a way which was reminiscent of a particular time in history in such a way that specially highlights any one specific spiritual devotion or mystery of the faith.

Additionally, while of course consecrated virgins should strive to foster amongst themselves a sense of sisterhood in their common vocation, consecrated virgins aren’t bound to each other in the same strong sense as nuns and religious sisters are. Therefore, I think that the family-type relationship expressed by a common habit is something truly proper only to religious life, or perhaps also other communal forms of consecrated life.

However, all other things being equal and considering the question in the abstract, I would be in favor of consecrated virgins wearing some kind of distinctive clothing, or possibly even distinctive clothing which was uniform within a given diocese. (The difference between a proposed diocesan-wide distinctive “uniform” for consecrated virgins and a habit properly so-called would I think be very similar to the difference between a religious habit and the clerical garb worn by diocesan priests and religious priests who aren’t in habit. I.e., a clerical collar and a cassock or black suit marks the wearer as a priest, but not as Franciscan, Dominican, Carmelite, ect.)

Also, I personally think it would be wonderful if it became an established custom for consecrated virgins to wear some sort of veil as part of their every-day attire. On a theological level, I think it would be especially fitting for consecrated virgins to wear veils because of the rich symbolism behind such a practice; because the veil is an ancient and venerable insignia of the Order of Virgins,* and because the reception of the veil is a part of the Rite of Consecration to a Life of Virginity.

Contrary to popular belief, and while obviously there are no authoritative documents which suggest that consecrated virgins should wear be required to wear “habits,” the Church has also never stated anywhere that consecrated virgins are forbidden from wearing distinctive clothing which identifies them as consecrated persons.

Right now, the question of identifying garb is left entirely to the discretion of the local Ordinary. In other words, it is completely up to individual bishops to decide if the consecrated virgins in their respective dioceses will wear special clothing, and I believe that the bishop would even have the right to require that the consecrated virgins under his care wear distinctive garb. (In fact, apparently few bishops in the United States, such as Bishop Jenky in the diocese of Peoria, Illinois, actually have asked that the virgins consecrated in his diocese wear veils full-time.)

I think that, in many cases, it would be most fitting for consecrated virgins—who have, after all, freely entered into a PUBLIC state of consecrated life—to wear distinctive, identifying garb, because of the value of such a visible consecrated Christian witness to the modern Church. As mentioned in countless articles and reflections such as this one and this one, people today are often hungry to see obvious reminders that the Holy Spirit still inspires men and women to offer their entire lives to Him.

Yet at the same time, regular readers of this blog have probably noticed that (aside from my ring the mantilla I started wearing to Mass after I was consecrated) I myself do not presently wear any distinctive clothing. My reasoning for this is that, since consecrated virginity is still in some sense a very “new” vocation, there are legitimate pastoral concerns to be taken into account—concerns which I feel outweigh my theoretical ideas on the preferable garb for consecrated virgins “living in the world.”

Namely, due to the widespread popular understanding of consecrated virginity—or more accurately, the lack thereof—right now I’m inclined to err on the side of discretion to avoid confusing the faithful in an unhelpful way.

However, I don’t think that it’s totally unrealistic to imagine that in several years time the pastoral situation might be different in such a way where consecrated virgins wearing distinctive garb would be generally considered a wholly helpful influence in the life of a diocese.

Given this, for me personally the bottom line is that: I’m very open to the idea of wearing a veil or some kind of “habit.” But, I don’t presently have any plans to do this in the foreseeable future. So for at least the time being, I do have to pick out my own clothes in the normal way.

Admittedly, I have found it a bit challenging at times to determine the best way to dress as a non-habited but publicly consecrated woman. The following portion of this post reflects my own ideas about this, and is the fruit of my individual discernment on the matter (which is open to on-going refinement, by the way). It represents my thoughts on the best practical approach to a totally practical question, and NOT anything like a restatement of an official Church doctrinal teaching.

Therefore, while I hope that some consecrated virgin- or aspiring consecrated virgin-readers find this helpful, please feel free to disagree with me in the comment box! I would be very interested to hear how other consecrated virgins (or candidates) have dealt with the issue of how to choose one’s day-to-day clothing.

In a nutshell, I feel that it is important for consecrated virgins to dress in such a way which could be described as modest, simple, tasteful, and practical:

Modest – Of course, all Catholic women are supposed to dress modestly, but I think that I would be justified in saying that consecrated virgins are ordinarily called to take modesty one step further than Catholic laywomen. Not only are consecrated virgins called to dress in such a way so as not to distract the men around us, but the clothing we wear should convey the clear message that we are not romantically available to any mortal man on this planet.

For me specifically as a consecrated virgin (and please note that I am not, not, NOT trying to define the appropriate standards of modesty for Catholic women in general—that’s one minefield I’ll best leave to other bloggers!), this means that I follow all the obvious guidelines: I would never wear anything skin-tight, see-through, midriff-bearing, blatantly provocative, or any permutation of “underwear as outerwear.”

Beyond this, all my skirts are knee-length or longer; and all my shirts, dresses, and tops cover my shoulders. I don’t wear any low- or lower-cut shirts, even those which wouldn’t seem immodest on my mother or sister. My clothes aren’t really baggy, but I don’t think I would ever wear anything truly form-fitting.

Simple – I also think that consecrated virgins should have simplicity as their “look.”
In addition to choosing clothes which celebrate the virtue of chastity, I think it’s just as important for consecrated virgins to dress in a way that reflects a spirit of evangelical poverty.

Speaking for myself, I never wear any jewelry besides my consecration ring and a small silver cross necklace. I don’t use cosmetics or wear any makeup at all, unless you count colorless moisturizer and lip balm in the winter. My hair is long, but besides keeping it clean and trimmed, I don’t do anything special to it and I try to arrange it as simply as possible. The things I use to put my hair up or tie it back are strictly utilitarian—I don’t use fancy barrettes or hair ornaments of any sort.

I also tend to favor clothing which is white, dark, or in muted colors, though I do have a few exceptions in my closet.

When I was younger, I used to love to wear skirts with bold floral prints. I still wear these once in a while (though I find myself feeling less and less comfortable in them), since I generally try to wear my clothes until they wear out. But now, whenever I have to buy new clothes, I stick to solid colors or occasionally some very simple prints such as small dots or pinstripes. In other words, I try to avoid giving the impression of having brilliant plumage!

I’m not against buying wardrobe staples (like shoes or a suit jacket) which are slightly more expensive if they’re well-made and will last for many years. However, as a rule, I don’t think that consecrated virgins should spend lot of money on clothes. For us, shopping should NOT be a recreational activity; and if we’re drawn towards flashy or designer clothes then something is wrong.

Also, we should be careful not to buy or accumulate more than we actually need. For example, women in general (at least in the United States) are notorious for collecting a lot of shoes and handbags. I think this is fairly harmless for most women, but it is hardly appropriate for a consecrated virgin. Speaking for myself, I try not to have more than one purse and one or two pairs of shoes at one time. My own personal rule of thumb for looking presentable while owning fewer clothes is to buy ONLY things that are easy to mix-and-match, and which will never go out of style (which usually means that they were never truly in style in the first place!)

Since modest and simple clothes are so hard to find these days, I wouldn’t have a problem “stocking up” if I came across something like a sale of really practical items. But, in my opinion consecrated virgins should not buy clothes just for fun. We need to be able to determine the difference between needs—even if these needs are just in the foreseeable future—and wants, and then buy our clothes accordingly.

Tasteful – Consecrated virgins are public representatives of the Church, and so beyond dressing modestly and simply, I think it’s also important that we dress in a way that would readily be regarded as presentable, appropriately feminine, and elegant (albeit elegant in a very plain way).

For me, “presentable” means that we as consecrated virgins should always try to look clean, neat, and “put together,” whenever we leave the house. This doesn’t mean that I don a business suit just to run out to the grocery store, but I think it does mean that whenever we go out in public we should always dress with the appropriate level of formality and “polish” (in accord with the particular occasion) which befits someone who lives her life as a “sign” or “icon” of the Church.

Also, since the vocation of consecrated virgins is a specifically feminine one (consecrated virginity is actually the only state in life within the Catholic Church which is categorically off-limits to men), and since we’re thus called to relate to Christ and His people in a specifically feminine way, in our choice of clothing we shouldn’t try to hide the fact that we are women! In my mind, dressing in a purely androgynous fashion is hardly helpful to our efforts to serve as a witness of Christ’s love for His Church. And I believe it is possible to look feminine without being immodest or extravagant in one’s dress.

For me in my own life, the desire to appear feminine influences my clothing choices in a number of ways too subtle to write about in great detail. But basically, I try to look for clothes that fit well while still being modest, and which, while being simple, are still aesthetically pleasing and reasonably attractive. There’s no sense in wearing un-flattering clothes just for the sake of wearing something un-flattering; even religious habits are envisioned as being something “at once poor and becoming.” (See Perfectae Caritatis, 17.)

Also, while I often wear blue jeans when I’m doing housework or when I’m relaxing at my parents’ house with just my immediate family present, I generally put on a dress or a skirt whenever I go out in public.**

Finally, although I certainly don’t believe that consecrated virgins should invest time or resources into keeping up with current trends in the secular fashion world, I still think that we should make a point to dress with class and relevancy. I.e., we shouldn’t come across as eccentric. While our modesty and simplicity should be notable, I also think that we should dress in such a way that even a well-meaning non-believer would feel comfortable approaching us.

Our clothing should convey maturity, intelligence, and competence or professionalism. It should also make it clear that we had enough sophistication to have renounced the glamour of the world by means of a free, deliberate choice—as opposed to, say, having adopted a modest and simple lifestyle out of fear or naïveté. On a concrete, practical level, I think this would mean that consecrated virgins should avoid things like: shapeless ankle-length denim or plaid jumpers, nineteenth century-style prairie dresses, long dresses homemade out of floral quilting fabric, muumuus or housedresses worn as street dresses, et cetera.

Practical – And in all of these considerations, common sense should reign supreme. If we as consecrated virgins are going to spend our days hard at work building up the local Church, we need clothing which will be comfortable and study enough to allow us to do our work well. I think it’s also important that most of our clothes be fairly simple to maintain, so that our wardrobe doesn’t demand too much of our attention.

Also, individual consecrated virgins need different clothes depending on their individual circumstances. E.g., a consecrated virgin who works in a diocesan office would probably need more formal business-type clothing than a consecrated virgin who worked in a soup kitchen or taught at an elementary school. If a consecrated virgin’s apostolic activity involved attending a lot of fundraisers or formal dinners, she might need to find something which, while being modest and simple, could pass as an evening dress. Yet for many other consecrated virgins, it would be terribly superfluous to own anything even resembling cocktail attire.

The climate and local cultural expectations in a consecrated virgin’s home diocese is another consideration, since it’s important to dress in way that is practical and appropriate for one’s surroundings. Even just within the United States, what works well in one region of the country might look out of place and be unduly uncomfortable in another.

For example, at home in New York, I love wearing black—it’s simple, dignified, and matches everything. But over the past few years I learned the hard way that black is NOT a friendly color in south Florida! It’s too hot to wear for most of the year; the harsh sun invariably fades it to some shade of brown, gray, or navy blue; and compared to all the loud, bright colors that people in the Miami area tend to wear, wearing black clothing makes it look like you’re in mourning for a close relative (really—I’ve encountered this particular misunderstanding personally before).

Anyway, that’s my two cents! Once again, comments on this post from other non-habited consecrated women are most welcome.

notes:

*In fact, I believe the reason that women religious typically have a veil as a part of their traditional habit is because of the historical overlap between the Order of Virgins and the earliest forms of monasticism. So you couldn’t say that I think modern consecrated virgins should wear veils to act more like religious Sisters—rather, it would be more accurate to say that nuns starting wearing veils in the first place because this was the custom of consecrated virgins!

** But this is emphatically NOT intended to echo the “Great Pants Debate of 2010.” I most certainly do not think that pants are intrinsically immodest; and to me it seems ridiculous to propose that it might somehow be inherently sinful for women to wear slacks. All I’m trying to say here is that in my own personal OPINION, skirts are a better “look” for consecrated virgins living in the world.